


Pillars of Heaven

by icarus_chained



Series: Weregild 'verse [4]
Category: Norse Mythology - Fandom, Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Gen, Historical, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-04-27
Updated: 2012-04-27
Packaged: 2017-11-04 10:20:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 741
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/392780
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/icarus_chained/pseuds/icarus_chained
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Little in-between ficlet. Gabriel and Loki in Koln during the WWII bombings</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pillars of Heaven

The skies outside were split asunder, twisted and torn by the wings of judgement, of vengeance, of war. The skies outside, black as death and screaming, raged over the fires below, over the gutted heart and staggered ruin. Outside. Outside. And in here?

In here, amongst the pillars of heaven, an archangel stood. Here, beneath the columns and the windows of the Dom, an archangel waited, so patient seeming, so very small. Here, with head tipped back and eyes closed against the black, he listened to the echoes of the choir, to the flutter of pigeons' wings against the screaming of the night, and the whispers of majesty that yet remained. Here, while the cathedral shook around him and war crept close against its walls, an archangel sat.

_Gabriel_ , whispered a voice, a warmth inside his chest. _Gabriel_ , whispered a god, to an archangel, and the sound of it stung tears through closed lids. Gabriel, Gabriel, Gabriel. But not 'My son'. Never that. No more that. This was not that god.

_Hush_ , he murmured softly, raggedly, to the god within his chest. _Hush_ , he begged of Loki, so soft, so broken. _Please. A little longer._

A little longer, to remember. A little longer, in a Germany torn by war, in an earth that echoed the heavens, in a monument to humanity's reaching for something they would never know, and he had lost long since.

There, stretched the pillars. Earth and stone, here, where there they had been Light, been Faith, been Word. The arched towers of a Father's Will, the Monuments of His Creations. Vast pillars, stretching forever, shining like stars and mist and glory and dawn. 

There, the flutter of wings beneath the vault, between the pillars. Pigeons only, ragged and wartorn. There ... well. There, they had been wartorn too. But before ... Before, they had flown and fluttered and tumbled, in arcs of dizzy joy, in arabesques of delight. Angels, tier on tier, winged arrows of celestial intent, and joyous. So joyous. Once, the wings beneath the Vault had been his, the flutters around the Pillars his doing, the echoes against the Windows there from his passing. Once.

There, too, the echoes. Not only of wings. Not only of war. Not only of screaming. Still, in this sacred space, even so broken, there were the echoes of the choir. Of human voices only, of a reaching for some higher thing, but still there. Still there in the weight of the air between the piers, around the organ. Still there. And once, between other Piers, in another Choir ... once, other voices. Greater voices, in celebration not reaching, for their joy had been there, always there. Their God, their Father, always there, and so the singing never ceased. Never faded, never fell. Once.

Oh, Father. Once. Before the war. Before the screaming of the skies. Once. Once, You were there, and we looked no further. And now ... only earth, and echoes, and this war that wrings Your name from human lips, never to be answered. And with the screaming in this land, perhaps already they know it.

_Gabriel_ , said the voice again. His god. His new god. Not a father, not a ruler, not the Name cried out in blind and unseeing joy. Not the Father. Loki. A partner, instead. A comfort, not a joy. A trust, not a faith. Loki, who came from earthly pillars, and looked with pity on this place of reaching. Loki, who whispered not an echo, but a voice. _Gabriel, come away. Leave the war for someone else. Leave the past for someone else. Come away._

Come away. Leave the once, take the now. A Trickster's creed, a jotun's trade. Loki's vows and Gabriel's too. The Pillars of Heaven had fallen long since, when the Star was first torn from their firmament. It just ... took them a while to realise. Took them a while to understand. And oh, how the Father must have laughed, at their so earnest innocence.

_Yes,_ he answered back, opening his eyes. _Yes_ , said the archangel, now a god. _Yes_ , said Gabriel.

But as he left, he whispered to the stones in their silent reaching. He whispered to the pillars in their blind outstretching. He whispered to the human voices echoing against the screaming of the night outside. An archangel, he whispered.

_Wait. A little longer, wait. Hold. Just a little longer. Be what I was not. Do what I could not._

_Hold._

**Author's Note:**

> Apparently, during the bombings of World War II, something like 90% of the city center of Koln/Cologne was destroyed. The Dom, the Cathedral, never fell. Someone on LJ, on reading this fic, informed me that the reason for that was that the people of Koln climbed up onto the roof of the cathedral during the bombings, and literally rolled the bombs off with poles. _During the bombings_. That is ... insane, and very awesome.


End file.
